


A Good Kind of Crazy

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s not much more than murmurs drifting through, happy gurgling from Lily mingling with mumbled words from her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Kind of Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the cheesiest thing I have ever written; you've been forewarned. 
> 
> Title found in Jason Aldean's _When She Says Baby_

Groaning, she rubs her eyes, hones in on the wails surrounding her from the open door and the monitor perched on the bedside table. She sighs, blinking at the digital clock, the numbers blurring.

Not even making sense.

Didn’t she just go to bed?

Wasn’t napping supposed to be contained to the day?

Or could she just assume sleep and her wouldn’t be friends for the next four to eight months?      

It’s not like—    

“S'ok...” He rolls towards her, mouth pressing briefly to her shoulder. “I got her.”

She feels the bed shift and she scoots up on the mattress, flicking the bedside lamp on its lowest setting as he shuffles down the hall to the nursery. Stretching slowly, she yawns, watching his progress, the muscles of his lower back twisting pleasantly as he darts into the adjoining room.

“Hey, Lily Belle...” His voice crackles through the monitor and she relaxes against her pillow, feet settling into the warmth of where his body just was. “You’re making a habit of this, waking me and Mommy in time to catch the end of the west coast games; don't get any crazy ideas about rooting for the Giants.”

There’s some shuffling, rustling of material, and she knows he’s checking their daughter’s diaper.

The thought touches her more than it probably should, but she can still see his face the second he realized what she was telling him, the way he kissed her the first time he felt their little one kick, how he’d turned birthing classes into a game...

She never doubted he was in this a hundred and ten percent, but now the happiness and excitement—the love—seems to be more.

More intense.

More mesmerizing.

More everything.

“...still dry, little girl. Are you hungry again? I bet you wish you were still getting that ice cream Mommy couldn’t get enough of.”

Felicity smiles, suddenly wanting some of that salted caramel again as she adjusts her pillow once more. Inhaling slowly, she lets her eyes drift closed for a moment before sprawling completely onto his side of the bed, head tipped towards the monitor.

There’s not much more than murmurs drifting through, happy gurgling from Lily mingling with mumbled words from her husband. She just catches a soft ‘there we go’ before a contented silence falls.

Sliding her arm under his pillow, she stares up at the ceiling, mentally reviews everything the need to pack up to take on their visit to Aunt Thea the next day. She knows Lily should be finished with her bottle by now and she expects he’ll watch to make sure she’s completely down before returning to tell her how much she ate, but it’s been fifteen minutes and—

Wrapping her arms around herself, she makes her way to the nursery, inhaling roughly as she stops in the doorway.

They’re both in the rocker near the window, sound asleep.

An empty bottle balances precariously on the arm of the chair, Lily tucked close to his chest, and she can’t move.

Her hand curls on the doorjamb, warmth flooding through her as the chair tilts back, Oliver’s head dipping lower in the muted light of the room.

_This is_ her _family._

Grinning, she pads into the room and carefully lifts their daughter from his arms, rubbing a soothing hand across her back as she lowers her into the crib.

Crossing back to him, she crouches near the chair, gently nudging his shoulder before letting her fingers skate across his collarbone, voice nothing more than a whisper. “Hey, c’mon back to bed; I need my personal space heater.”

“Mmm...” He stretches, eyebrow lifting as he slowly pushes out of the rocker. “Is that all I am? Your foot insulation?”

“No.... You warm my arms, too.”

“And your legs and those shoulders...” His thumb strokes down the column of her throat as they slip back into their room. “Soft, amazing breasts...”

“And my heart.” She grins at his sharp intake of breath, the way his mouth turns up as she pulls him down to the bed with her, joined hands pinned between their chests. “My heart.”


End file.
